Running down the rock face was worlds quicker, especially as Micah could now hold on weakly, making it a mere fraction of what their grueling ascent had been. Flat ground was only a few paces ahead, and he leapt to it, hoping that would spell safety. Before running over to the cart and Gam, he turned to see Shemmy cackling as she dived off the incline with Zan following at a relaxed pace.
“I think they gave up. They looked really pissed and terrified to see their kin being turned into marionettes by this one,” my brother explained, brimming with pride over Shemmy’s ingenuity. He pulled off his bloodstained and ripped shirt and placed his sword back in its hilt. He knelt down at Billiam’s feet before looking up at Micah and proclaiming dramatically, “Welcome back, Your Highness.” Zan wanted to spit on the prince; instead he sniveled.
Micah smiled wide, though seeing a disturbed look on Billiam’s face cut his delight at the display short. “Thank you for your bravery, Sir Zan of Ellekós. And who might my savior be?” he asked, straining to look over at Shemmy as Billiam followed her and Zan to the cart.
“Prince, may I have the pleasure of introducing Miss Chammerline Dubois XII, or Shemmy, if you don’t want her to pinch you,” Billiam informed him, while he dug through a saddlebag with the arm not entirely supporting Micah. He grabbed out a toothbrush and some peppermint soap. It had been at least a year since the prince’s mouth had been cleaned; the two of them would be requiring it both sanitary and pleasant.
Shemmy grinned to him from ear to ear, offering up a painfully awkward curtsy. “A pleasure to meet ya, Yer ’Ighness!”
Micah was immediately filled with happiness by the fun he saw in her. “No, no, that won’t do. You are the reason I am alive. I will not have you address me with such pomp; call me Micah. I am now in debt to all of you, but especially you, Shemmy. You are a miracle worker!” He was smiling wide, letting foamy bubbles fall from his lips as Billiam brushed his teeth quickly. Once he was finished, Micah spat to the side. It was not the most regal behavior, but at least that vital bit of hygiene was taken care of.
“Oi, I guess that juss makes you my little miracle, then, dunnit! Should we dress ’im or you wanna stay in yer birfday suit, Micah? It is yer new birfday, after all!” Shemmy cheered and tickled the bottom of Micah’s bare foot.
Billiam finally set Micah down and breezily caught a blanket Zan threw at him without looking. Micah was in awe at the dexterity and grinned as Billiam wrapped him up. He felt cold, but it was a distant chill, as if he were far colder than what he could actually feel. His body, though revived, felt so frail and tired that he began to sway under the weight of the quilt. Billiam grabbed him tight once again, but allowed his feet to stay on the ground this time.
Zan watched on as the three of them chatted, laughing like idiots. He decided he ought to actually get to work, as no one was interested in socializing with him. He also didn’t want to look upon the prince in his “birthday suit” any longer than he had to, even if he was now mostly covered. He changed into a clean shirt, swept out all the flour from the cart, and grabbed the damp quilts that had been thawing on a tree branch. He folded them before setting them down on the cart. All the while he was swallowing down a lump in his throat as large as one of the stupid horses that were watching him.
Feeling slightly less angry after distracting himself with chores, Zan could address them all once again. “We were not able to procure any of your clothes, Prince, but we brought you some from another knight in our order, Roland. He is the only one close to you in size, although they’ll still be a bit big,” he called over, displaying an outfit he had grabbed from one of their bags. A plain, rough-looking white button-up shirt and some far too loose black denim trousers stared ominously at the prince from my brother’s hand. Zan was exuding a forced enthusiasm, sure his humanity and generosity would please the prince.
He was wrong. Micah frowned so fiercely his distaste was practically audible. “I don’t think those are near my size, whatsoever,” he said as politely as he could muster. “Shemmy looks to be about the same size as me, though! What do you have, love?”
Although Micah was male, he never paid it much mind when it came to clothing or behavior. This was definitely his mother’s influence, who had fawned over him constantly and always encouraged him toward things “girly” or “pretty.” I suppose he was like myself in that way, only opposite.
She ran over to Gam and started pulling out all the strange clothing she packed from her hovel, spilling it onto the ground. “These are all my own creations!” she exclaimed. There were two patchwork dark leather dresses, much like the one she wore when Billiam met her, with strategically placed cutouts. Some tartan skirts, silky harem pants, and cotton tunics of varying colors and states of soiled were also strewn about her feet.
Among them was an odd crocheted one-piece, comprised of short shorts at the end and thin straps at the top. The hole-filled fabric would cover one’s entire midsection, although vaguely. As Shemmy grabbed that up, Micah responded, “I suppose I could wear that to bed,” with a loud snicker. Billiam cocked his head to the side, unsure if he liked the thought of that or not, prompting a loud groan from Zan.
Shemmy sensed Micah was none too impressed with her handmade fashions, so she got up and walked to her horse. “I also have the clothes Nairee and Jess made me get. They may be more to yer tastes, Micah.” She reached into the saddlebag packed for her and grabbed out a stack of clothing. There was another boring white button-up, although it looked to be better fitting. Underneath that, there was a silken long-sleeve blouse of ivory with a lace collar beautifully embroidered around the front. She held a fine pair of black woolen slacks at the bottom of the pile.
“We have a winner!” exclaimed Micah as he waddled slowly in his blanket over to Shemmy.
She was both surprised and delighted when Micah grabbed the silk top instead of the plain, more conventional shirt. He held it up, marveling at the tailoring, checking the chest area. There didn’t seem to be much room for bosoms, as Shemmy was not all that well-endowed, thus it wouldn’t fit the prince too loosely. He held the trousers against himself and saw they would land right at his ankles. Despite them being near the same height, it appeared Micah was leggier.
He leaned over to Shemmy and asked, “Is it all right if I have Billiam make these into short pants for me? I think they will be much more flattering that way.”
“O’course! I was’nae plannin’ on ever wearing ’um anyhow.” She threw the pants at Billiam, who caught them easily. He was at work on them within seconds, slicing with his dagger right above where he expected the prince’s knee to land. Shemmy noticed Micah was hardly able to clutch his new top and the blanket at the same time. He seemed to be wobbling a bit as well. “Would ya like me to help ya wif getting into that?”
Micah smiled, and his face glowed with warmth. “Thank you so much, Shemmy. You are far too kind. However, I had been quite accustomed to being dressed by Billiam, so I’d prefer that, if he does not mind.” He looked bashfully over to Billiam and then back again, trying hard to not let the pretty blouse fall through his uncooperative fingers.
“It would be my pleasure—rather my honor, to assist you, my prince,” Billiam cheered as he ran over to him. He held the newly short pants in his hand as he scooped him up, quilt and all. Micah giggled while they disappeared behind the trees for his dressing.
About seven minutes of silence passed before Zan broke it, sighing loudly and beginning to pace. “I wonder if Billiam will free me to leave now that I’ve completed my defense in the faerie woods. It’s not as if I’m wanted here by anyone.” The horse-sized lump in his throat had not minimized. The more he thought of being there amongst Billiam’s absolute joy, the more he wished he could just choke on it.
“Aye, I dun like ya; however, I’m sure Billiam wants as many guardians for his prince as he can muster, even if they are you. Also, as excited as I may be to have this free show, I’m sure afta a while Imma wanna have a fourth wheel aroun
d, no matter who it be. How badly is it killin’ ya, seeing ’um back togever?”
“I am just fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” He answered with a ridiculously huge smile, mostly because he wanted to make his cheeks hurt. He wanted to feel something other than the consuming pain in his chest. Why had he let Billiam make him come? Why was he fighting to save the prince? He hated the prince; he had stolen away his only precious thing. Did he really care about saving his nation? He wasn’t even sure anymore. He cared about fitting in, and that was why he fought. He fought because it would please Billiam. He felt so pathetic.
“You feel so fine, ya wanna run off into the woods all on yer own? That makes not a lick o’ sense!” She was giggling at him when her eyes suddenly bugged out. A funny thought popped in her head and she blurted, “How long have they been gone?”
“I’d say we are nearing the ten-minute mark.”
“Well, thass more than enough time to dress him, aye?” With that she ran off into the section of woods where she had seen the men disappear. As soon she spied the outline of Billiam’s back with a flash of Micah’s golden hair in front of it, she shrieked, “Stop, stop! You cannae yet!”
They turned toward her, confused and laughing. When she arrived where they were, she was panting and fell to her knees. She looked up at them, more specifically at both of their trousers, and sighed. “Oh thank Spirit. Then what the bloody hell is taking so long?”
Micah gave a short spin before exhausting himself and leaning against a tree. Billiam grinned at Shemmy and held his thread and needle below his face, forming a second smile. “What do you think, Shemmy?”
She looked over the prince, amazed at Billiam’s handiwork. He had taken in the silk blouse beautifully, leaving no trace that it was intended to encase a woman’s chest. The former trousers he not only cut but also hemmed and cuffed attractively above Micah’s kneecaps. There was even a pair of black, soft-looking tights emerging from under the short pants. “Where did those come from? That’s my tunic sleeves, ain’t it?” Shemmy accused, pointing at the prince’s cloth-clad ankles.
“Well, as much as I am an enthusiast of always looking one’s best, I must also look after Micah’s health. In order for me to feel comfortable with him wearing short pants in this climate, I needed to cover his legs with something, no?” He smirked at her, both sneaky and sincere, somehow.
“Bah, fine. He looks so adorable; I forgive you! But doncha dare touch my fings again, Billiam, or I’ll put you back in Gam!” Shemmy ran over to the prince and squeezed him. She looked him over from head to toe, making plenty of ogling noises. “How did ya do all this so fast?”
“We all have our talents, enchantress. Tailoring is arguably my greatest skill. Moving away from that, why did you run out here so fervently? What, pray tell, did you think I was doing?”
“Oh, right! This be important! From all my research, I gathered it takes a whole two moons fer the body to be fully restored. That means you should’nae walk much, no eatin’ hard foods, no doin’ anyfing strenuous. So please, Billiam, for his safety alone, don’t ya go stickin’ it in him for at least forty-eight hours, ya hear? And dat goes for his mouf too, and I mean it!” she instructed, quite adamantly with no trace of the humor that usually hid in her voice. Micah gasped and tried to hide his large smile behind his fingers.
“Oh, Shemmy, you are shameless,” Billiam responded with an exhausted sigh.
He was getting ready to lecture her on rudeness, when Micah interjected with a small, sweet voice, “Forty-eight hours from now or from when I was first revived?” He felt terribly embarrassed and refused to make eye contact with either of them.
“Oi, you little tart! I love it! I’d say you’ve been alive about an hour now, so we can make it forty-seven hours. You want it the very first second you can, doncha?” she asked him, giggling more as Micah’s blush grew a shade redder by the second. Billiam tried not to laugh with her, as he was both surprised and excited at what the prince’s inquiry had been.
Micah was mortified and pushed her slightly, but he could not force the grin from his face. “What kind of tramp do you take me for? I simply wanted to know, um… so I’d know when I could expect to… have to fight him off?” That was probably not supposed to be a question, but that’s definitely how it sounded. “Has it really only been an hour? I suppose I am not used to time passing. It feels like half a day. I wouldn’t have even bothered asking….” Micah trailed off and hid his face in his hands.
Billiam fought away his own laughter and finally intervened between Micah and his new fan. He picked the prince up and cradled him in his arms. He then turned to Shemmy and said, “Right, I will obey your rules and keep my hands and the rest of me to myself, hmm?” He smirked, and she nodded with approval. He pulled Micah’s head close to his own and gave him a kiss on top of it, feeling the strands of silk between his lips. “And you, my Prince, are free to try to fight me. I can’t say I’d mind you playing a little hard to get.”
Micah smiled and snuggled into Billiam’s shoulder, feeling quite comfortable getting carried around by this point. He looked over it to Shemmy, who was practically drooling and had remained motionless. “We should probably get back to Zan before he runs after us screaming too!”
This woke her up, and she followed them as they walked back to their cart and comrade. “I have another fing to get clear, too! The resuscitation and any kisses to the head or hands does’nae count as the one kiss I get to see!”
Micah looked curiously up at Billiam.
“Sorry, Prince, that was part of the agreement for her assisting in your rescue. She vulgarly asked to witness much more, but I negotiated her down. Do forgive me,” he explained, though Micah looked none too offended.
Contrarily, he got quite excited. “Billiam could kiss me right now, if you’d like, Shemmy?”
“That does not sound like a boy who will be fighting me off.”
Shemmy had another laughing fit and was grinning like a buffoon but shocked them with her response. “No, no, no. That will’nae do. I want it to be natural, and passionate, and such. That, and you could be finking ’bout me when you do it!”
“No offense, Shemmy, but I don’t know how much passion we will be able to feel if we are thinking of you. It would definitely not feel natural,” Micah retorted.
They were almost in sight of the clearing when Billiam stopped suddenly. “This looks like the perfect spot.”
He set Micah down on his feet, facing him. Kneeling slightly, he lifted up the prince’s chin and pressed his lips firmly against his. Micah’s knees gave out a bit as Billiam slid his tongue into his mouth, touching against his teeth playfully. He clutched the prince, once again carrying him; he had gone all limp. The kiss they had been waiting for, for what seemed like their whole lifetimes, lasted only a few moments, though the passion in it was as large as that wait.
“I’m sorry, my Prince. I myself couldn’t resist any longer. Also, better to do it with one onlooker as opposed to two.”
Micah pressed his head against Billiam’s chest, feeling his newly awakened heart could burst with happiness. “I am glad you couldn’t! I doubt I will be playing hard to get anymore, not even remotely.”
“That was perfect!” Shemmy cried, falling into the boys and hugging them both. “I ain’t gonna promise that I’ll stop peekin’, though!”
“I would expect nothing less from you, my dear!” Billiam held Micah’s waist and walked him the few paces back over to their clearing. Shemmy bounded past them, humming happily as she reached my thoroughly distraught brother.
Zan’s heart was full of Billiam’s happy emotion colliding with his own feelings of despair. At the moment, it made him feel better, but he knew when Billiam’s joy leveled out he would feel all the worse for it. He had been fighting in his thoughts on whether or not to ask Billiam if he could take his leave. He knew for the sake of the plan and the prince’s safety he should stay but felt Billiam’s disdain might allow for his dismissal anyhow. B
eing around the lovesick couple was making him feel like he could die. Despite that, the thought of not being with him and Micah having Billiam all to himself filled my brother with a rage and jealousy worse than any other. In the end, it was clear he would feel awful either way, so bringing it to everyone’s attention would just make the situation worse.
Biting his tongue, he allowed his friendly façade to wash over him and grinned nauseatingly at them. “Welcome back! That’s a lovely outfit, Micah. Kudos to the tailor!” His exaggeration of happiness was too much even for him this time.
“Stop bein’ a creep!” Shemmy shouted and reached up to flick my brother’s head, but it impacted well below his chin. “I guess ye’ll be stayin’ our fourth wheel, then, hmm?”
“I will be miserable either way, and I hear it loves company, so why not?” he sang in his fake voice, but was speaking the ever elusive truth.
A pang of pity hit Billiam in his gut. He pushed it away as quickly as he could; he knew Zan deserved not a single ounce of it from him, not ever. They had wasted enough time, and there was only a good five or so hours left of daylight, so he turned his thoughts to something actually important. “Right, then, my Prince, how would you like to travel: by cart, by horse, or by your lover?”
Micah felt warm all over, even though only a fraction of feeling had returned to his body. He had always thought of Billiam as his lover, his one and only, but it was never so much as whispered. To hear him finally say it would make him weak in the knees even if it wasn’t his first day alive. “I suppose I should give my man-beast a break. I’ll want you to have plenty of energy in forty-seven hours’ time. I shall resume my ride in the cart, as I gather that’s how my journey has been spent thus far.”
Billiam helped him into the cart, while Zan reattached the puny horse. Micah sat up against the wall of the cart and crossed his legs. Billiam laid one of the dry quilts across his body and unfolded the moist ones alongside him so they could continue drying in the space he did not occupy.
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